


Don’t Delete the Kisses

by stilinskitrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Mistletoe, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: Octavia hosts a Christmas party and Clarke anxiously awaits the arrival of Bellamy, who she hasn’t seen in two years.





	Don’t Delete the Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> this should hopefully be one in a short collection of Christmas drabbles which all link ?? just to get y’all in the spirit !!  
> un-beta’d cause i live life on the edge and i’m lazy  
> follow my writing twitter [cvbeswaters](https://twitter.com/cvbeswaters) or on tumblr at [stacygwehn](https://stacygwehn.tumblr.com)

Maybe Clarke shouldn’t have started drinking at four in the afternoon.

 

In part, it was Octavia’s fault for plying it on her so early on, as Clarke helped her get her apartment ready for the Christmas party she’d agreed to have months ago. Octavia was very obviously regretting that decision now, though.

 

The apartment wasn’t huge either; the kitchen and living room were one space, with bedroom for Octavia (and her boyfriend, Lincoln, who Clarke had yet to meet) and a spare room (to be occupied by Octavia’s brother, Bellamy, who Clarke hadn’t seen in at least two years). The bathroom just about fit three people in. 

 

But Octavia, then undeterred, had been out and bought fairy lights, mass amounts of tinsel, Christmas crackers, and boughs of holly and mistletoe. So after bribing Clarke with alcohol--and some begging--they’d spent the day decorating the apartment as if it were Santa’s own grotto.

 

If the parties Octavia had thrown in high school were anything to go by, she would have invited far more people than she could accommodate. Clarke was sure that after some more mulled wine and some Christmas tunes everything would be fine, though.

 

“Time?” Octavia yelled across the living room as she grabbed a variety of alcohol from the cupboards to display on the kitchen island.

 

Clarke threw herself down onto the couch, tipsy as anything and  _ kind  _ of just wanting to nap. “Nearly eight, what time did you tell people?”

 

“Eight.” she huffed, worrying her lower lip as if it were possible that people wouldn’t turn up.

 

Rolling her eyes, Clarke shrugged her shoulders as sympathetically as she could. “No one ever turns up at the allotted time. Don’t sweat it! There’s no way anyone would miss it.”

 

Octavia mumbled under her breath, “better not. Otherwise it’ll just be me, Lincoln, Bellamy and you. Yay.” 

 

Now  _ that  _ didn’t sound fun. She didn’t know Lincoln, and wasn’t exactly ecstatic about Bellamy’s return. The last time she’d seen him, Clarke had come scarily close to admitting to her lingering crush on him from high school, under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. She was over it now. She was. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, had avoided Facebook stalking him and had enjoyed various hookups and a couple of relationships. 

 

Just to be sure, she sent a quick text to Monty to check he was on his way.

 

As predicted, the apartment was bulging by nine o’clock. Lincoln had been first to arrive, a surly man who looked incredibly strange beside tiny 5”4 Octavia, but had a kind voice and soft smile. Clarke was pleasantly surprised. 

 

Many of their high school alumni turned up with strangers; boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances and friends. She’d had chances to meet up with a few in between semesters at university, but none as often as Octavia. She was ambushed with a bear hug by Jasper and Monty, received an awkward but appreciated high five from Murphy, and spent close to half an hour catching up with Raven.

 

At about eleven, Clarke heard Octavia make an excited scream as another guest arrived, and glanced over to a familiar head of shaggy dark curls. 

 

Bellamy looked exactly the same as he had two years ago, except a little scruffier. It was a good look. He looked good. 

 

Clarke grabbed another glass of mulled wine and looked away.

 

Of course everyone was eager to greet him, to ask how he’d been and what he’d been up to. Clarke quickly attracted the attention of the girl who’d been introduced to her as Murphy’s girlfriend Emori, asking her about the mad face tattoos she had.

 

Her eyes still found him, amidst the bustle of Octavia’s overcrowded apartment. She tried not to watch him as he moved into the spare room, carrying a suitcase and closing the door behind him. The wine made her feel warm, susceptible to overpowering emotions and definitely too drunk to even try approaching him without embarrassing herself.

 

She danced the night away to Mariah Carey and The Pogues, sobering up as her mind fought off thoughts of Bellamy in the room next door. Slowly, the guests trickled out until it was Clarke, Octavia, Lincoln and Raven draped across the couch watching reality TV at three in the morning. Octavia was asleep on Lincoln, who looked like he’d be a goner soon too. 

 

Clarke pulled herself to her feet to grab a glass of water just as Bellamy’s bedroom door opened, and the man himself emerged dressed in pyjama bottoms and a tank top.

 

When he smiled at the sight of her, Clarke chewed her cheeks to keep herself from reacting. 

 

He sidled up next to her, opening the fridge to grab Octavia’s carton of orange juice. “Hey, princess.”

 

She curled her toes at the nickname, “hi, Blake. When did you get here?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant.

 

“Sometime around eleven,” he sighed, shrugging without looking at her, “why? Too drunk to notice my arrival?”

 

Clarke pursed her lips, “too busy having fun, thanks. Clearly you didn’t feel the same, considering you locked yourself away all night.”

 

Bellamy roller his shoulders with a quiet  _ hmm,  _ replacing the orange juice in the fridge and reclining back against the kitchen counter in front of her. 

 

“I was actually wrapping presents. I mean, I might’ve had a power nap around one, but I’ve been working pretty solidly up until now at the bar in between finishing my dissertation. Not had much time, it’s a miracle I even got around to buying any.” he glanced over at Octavia, legs tucked against her chest as she curled up against Lincoln. “Just feels wrong, not getting her anything, even now. We never got a lot growing up, and I got used to providing the gifts on behalf of mom.”

 

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Bellamy whilst his were on his sister. “You’re a great brother, you know.” 

 

“Hm?” he focused on Clarke, forehead creased. She had to tear her eyes away from his lips, the quirks of his brow and the broad slope of his shoulders.

 

“You’re a great brother.” she repeated after clearing her throat. The alcohol had worn off by now, leaving her with the faint remnants of a headache and a desperate urge to curl up under a mountain of blankets. Or beside someone’s body heat. “She’s so lucky to have you, I just mean. And I know she’s elated that you made the time to come here for Christmas.”

 

_ Was he blushing? _ Clarke could see his demeanour crumbling, replaced by sheepish humility that he always fell into when praised. If only he could take a goddamn compliment.

 

“You’re here for Christmas too, right?” he asked instead. But Clarke knew he appreciated her words.

 

“Yeah, mom’s on a business trip. Didn’t really want to spend Christmas in a hotel room.”

 

“I’m glad.”

 

Clarke’s mouth twitched upwards. He was looking down at her with a smile she couldn’t quite read, but spread a warmth in the pit of her stomach nonetheless.

 

Pushing off the kitchen counter, Bellamy’s eyes fixed on the ceiling above the space in between them, a smirk unconcealable on his face.

 

Whilst she’d been distracted by not making a fool of herself, Clarke hadn’t noticed the bough of mistletoe hung neatly from the ceiling off the lamp. The white berries were complimented nicely by a sparkling red ribbon that Clarke had tied them together with yesterday.

 

She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes as she stared up at the branches, but her stomach dropped when she felt him close the distance between them.

 

“Tradition?” his hands were by his side as Clarke itched to wrap hers around him.

 

“Maybe…” a few more inches closer and the curls of his hair would tickle her forehead when he leaned down to her, “just- just this once.” her words came out a whisper, all thought of the three on the couch behind them dissipating quickly.

 

Softly, he pressed his lips to hers. The kids felt maintained, their arms by their sides as Bellamy’s mouth moved in slow synchronisation with hers. Gentle strokes of their tongues, savouring each moment before they separated. 

 

Clarke’s fingers twitched, and she reached them out a fraction towards him to find his hands closer to hers too, which was enough to have her arms slinking around his neck and his hands on her hips. They pulled closer together, she could taste beer on his lips and she was sure he could taste the mulled wine on hers. 

 

It was everything she’d imagined in high school, but better. It was everything she’d tried not to imagine in the two years they’d gone their separate ways, but that she’d found herself dreaming off all too often. He smelled good and felt good against her, but as soon as she pulled far enough away the reality settled in.

 

His lips were red, and his eyes hooded. Clarke fumbled for the words to follow up what they’d done but came up short. Of course, Raven always round the right words to say.

 

“Holy fucking shit.”

 

Clarke whirled around, almost falling into the kitchen island as she swivelled.

 

Raven was staring at them wide eyed, almost hysterical as a grin almost tore her face in half. Lincoln had also woken up, and was taking them in with a confused and interested expression.

 

“Fuck,” she muttered, staring at Raven helplessly.

 

She felt Bellamy move closer to her from behind, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips which made her cheeks grow hotter.

 

Throwing her hands in the air, Raven cackled almost loud enough to wake Octavia. “I thought that would  _ never _ happen.”

 

“Shut up,” Clarke groaned, rubbing her temples with the heel of her palms as if she could make herself forget the embarrassment. “Don’t tell Octavia.” she demanded, looking pointedly at Lincoln.

 

“My lips are sealed.” he shrugged, stroking the hair on Octavia’s head as she slept.

 

“C’mon, princess. It’s Christmas.” Bellamy laughed, as if that was the excuse he’d procured or the reason he’d thought it was acceptable to kiss her like  _ that _ .

 

It wasn’t the only reason Clarke had wanted to kiss him; maybe he didn’t feel the same.

 

She forced a smile, one she knew Bellamy would never buy anyway after knowing her so long.

 

“Of course, merry Christmas.” she gave Bellamy a last lingering look and waved at the two on the couch, before ducking into Octavia’s room with the sensation of his lips on hers stubbornly lingering in her mind.


End file.
